


Aftermath Of The Stag Party

by afteriwake



Series: In So Few Words [85]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Amused Molly Hooper, Drunkenness, Engaged Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Humor, Injured John, Injured Lestrade, Inspired by Photography, Mentioned Mary Morstan, Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, Naked Sherlock, Newspapers, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Sober Sherlock, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Strip Poker, cheek kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly is not expecting the sight before her after being asked to bring Sherlock a change of clothes after his stag night.





	Aftermath Of The Stag Party

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this picture in my drafts on Tumblr forever with a request from **bassfanimation** to write it as a fic, so...here's my take. 

There had been so many things Molly had expected to see when she got to the pub a few miles out of London with one of Sherlock’s “good suits and good shirts,” as he had asked for. A broken, bloody nose, for instance. Knife wounds. Even, God forbid, massive injuries that perhaps John had already taken care of.

None of which were things she wanted to see mere days before their wedding, of course, but she remembered what had happened during _John’s_ stag night. If there was a pub involved, and Sherlock was asking for a fresh change of clothes brought to the pub, it _couldn’t_ be for a good reason.

The sight that she walked in on, though, left her absolutely gobsmacked.

Sherlock was sitting on a stool, naked as could be, with only the day’s newspaper covering all the naughty bits. Greg and John were at a table, completely trashed, both with injuries and with alcohol, she assumed. There were specks of blood on John’s jumper and Greg looked like he might need her to fix a broken nose.

And then...well, then there was the literal pile of bodies to the side. _That_ was the most concerning part.

“And how was your hen night?” Sherlock asked, flipping to the next section of the newspaper.

“Mild, compared to...whatever happened here,” She said, stepping around a pile of vomit and getting to Sherlock. “Care to explain?”

“Hole in the wall pub, tough crowd, strip poker...the winner went and took my clothes to escape being around when the others caught her cheating.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “You had a stripper, then?”

“Nope,” Sherlock said, moving his gaze to the other side of the paper as he let the word pop in his mouth. “Mary’s getting better at her disguises, but unfortunately, not better at hiding her tracks when she cheats at poker.”

Molly nodded. Oh, she knew Mary had never really been dead, that the whole thing at the aquarium had been more than a convincing bluff to spirit her out of the country until...well, until there was a time it was safe. Her expertise had been called on again and she had done her bit, bringing Rosie to the morgue with her. Granted, there had been unknowing and unwilling members at play in the charade, but no woman should have to go off without one last glimpse of the daughter they were doing it all for.

“Did John figure it out?” Molly asked, looking for a clean place to set his clothing. The whole place looked in ruins, really, and she wondered if Greg and John really were three sheets to the wind or if medical attention was needed.

“Yup,” Sherlock said, popping the word again. “He missed out on the beginning of the fun his wife started by running out afterward. I think he got a snog, not much more, because he came back in all ready to pound heads together.” He turned the page of the newspaper and she saw, indeed, he was starkers. Not that she hadn’t seen him before, but never out in public.

“Do they need medical attention?” she asked.

“Doubtful. But I need attention.” He closed the newspaper and then set it on his lap. “Now then. Do I get a kiss for not getting killed?”

Molly grinned slightly and rolled her eyes. “After this mess gets taken care of. And you find me Mary’s contact information. I want to have words with her on why she chose to crash your stag night and not my hen night. I could have used a livelier evening.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek before dropping his clothes on his lap. “To the loo. Then we get our sleeping beauties and I find a place with decent beans, okay?”

“Yes dear,” Sherlock said, scooping his clothes off his lap and walking to the back of the pub, bare arse on display for anyone to see. She shook her head again and made her way over to Greg and John. She had the feeling the prior night would _not_ end up in the best man’s speech...but the best man had better give her all the dirt, or else.


End file.
